


Cracked Crystal

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:12:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor makes a serendipitous discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracked Crystal

Fëanáro leaned backwards in his chair, arching his back and rolling his shoulders. It was late. He had lost track of time while working, as he so often did. He looked out of the window of his study. The room faced in the wrong direction to see the trees directly, but the colour of the sky told him that Telperion was waning. His younger sons would be awake in a few hours. His eyes itched with tiredness, and he rubbed them in annoyance with the heels of his hands. Since he was still awake, he wanted to at least make use of the opportunity of a little peace to finish his work.

He had been working on a new type of crystal glass, with the goal of improving its clarity, and it had quickly become his current primary project, even an obsession these last few days. There were several crystal globes on his desk, each larger than a fist, which he had been testing for their refractive properties. He had spent the night meticulously recording the results in one of his large leatherbound ledgers, along with his own commentary on the various experimental mixtures he had used for the molten glass. He flipped through the last few pages, frowning at the notes he had made earlier. Overall, he was disappointed with the results. The formula needed refinement. The extra clarity he sought was achievable, he felt sure, but he supposed that he would have to start from scratch again tomorrow. Perhaps a variation on the cooling process would be beneficial? Still, he must test the last remaining orb, before he could get started on something new. He sighed. The candle on his desk had burned down and gone out, so he lit another and regarded the final sphere by its light. He ran his thumb critically over the surface, which he had painstakingly polished to near-perfect smoothness. He lifted the candle in its holder, squinting at the flame through the glass, assessing the clarity and the finish. Then he propped a stiff piece of paper against a pile of books beside him, and held the sphere between it and the candle, adjusting the spacing until he was projecting an image of the flame onto the flat white sheet. The image was hazy and indistinct, as all of the previous ones had been.

He ground his teeth, frustrated. It had been like this day after day. He did not yet know what he would do with the perfect clear glass he desired, but he had a driving compulsion to create it, and more, to make it perfect. He felt like he was missing something, that the perfection he sought was just out of reach. Suddenly rage flared up in his tired mind. He stood up and seized the crystal sphere with a snarl, and hurled it at the wall with all his strength. After a moment he dropped back down into his chair, hands covering his face. Fëanáro knew he should not have done that. Someone would have heard the sound of the glass hitting the plaster. He drew in a deep breath, and gingerly picked his way towards the opposite wall, looking for broken glass on the floor.

But there was none. Puzzled, he knelt down and looked around. There was the glass ball, seemingly completely undamaged apart from a few hairline cracks running through it, creating a strange, ethereal network inside the sphere. He ran his fingers over a new chip in the plaster of the wall. Now that was interesting. It seemed that instead of making the glass clearer, this particular version of the formula made it extremely tough. Further study would be needed of course, and if he could recreate the effect… Fëanáro’s mind was already racing, his anger vanishing as quickly as it had come.


End file.
